


Through The Years

by unseenbox



Series: Hogwarts Community Radio [7]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Background Slash, Crossover, Gen, M/M, Typical Night Vale Weirdness, past relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 08:45:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unseenbox/pseuds/unseenbox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Listener submitted How We Met stories are read; the vampires throw a holiday party; connections are missed, sometimes by more than one person, sometimes not at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through The Years

**Author's Note:**

> Despite what the summary suggests, all the letters that appear in this episode were written by me!

A place where red and green only go together a few times a year. Welcome to Hogwarts.

Well, listeners, it’s only a few short days until Christmas holidays begin! Or winter solstice, if you prefer. The decorations in the Great Hall look phenomenal as always, thanks to the tireless efforts of Professor Flitwick, his NEWT level charms students, and countless house elves. Be sure to show them some gratitude this holiday season by not playing Exploding Snap near the tree at the head of the Hall, as some of the ornaments are highly sensitive to flashing lights and powders.

And, as we prepare for our holiday, spent either in the cold comforts of this castle or at our homes, presumably with loved ones, we again provide you with the next edition of our tenth annual listener submitted programming week! Yesterday you heard a wide assortment of poetry, all of it written by students, faculty, and the occasional hyper intelligent owl, and the day before that, we presented you with stories about the best presents our listeners received in the past, or may receive in the future. Today, we’re bringing you stories from how our students met… well, anyone! Really, anyone, we weren’t picky. Best friends, lifelong enemies, classroom rivals, someone you dated for two weeks once, someone you’ve been seeing since Fifth Year, strangers who pass each other in the halls and share a glance before moving on, all of these were acceptable submissions!

Our first submission comes from Madeline LeFleur, scribbled onto the corner of a very official looking travel brochure. It reads, 

“About two years ago, I was visiting my aunt in Tours, and as I stepped out of the fireplace and brushed all that dust out of my hair, I realized all the lights were out in the… what’s it called, hotel? Something like that. Anyway, all the lights out, not even a flicker in the corner or a lit candle in the window, we’ve all got the picture now, right? The sun was still up, so you could still navigate the room just by the lights coming in from outside, and so I went to find a cafe, you know, so I could get some coffee and relax. When I walked outside, this tiny owl careened out of nowhere and smacked right into the window. Slid off and out onto the lawn, collapsed in a pile of feathers and talons. I wished I had coffee, but I didn’t, so I eventually went to check on the poor thing, who survived, surprisingly enough. And that’s how I met my owl, Concierge.”

Thank you for that lovely submission, Madeline! 

John Peters -- you know, the groundskeeper? -- says that the current crop of invisible corn will not survive the holiday break, and asks that anyone who wants to sample it must make their way to greenhouse five to receive their share by this upcoming Sunday. The invisible corn tastes exactly the same as regular corn, he says, only it’s, well, invisible. John Peters also grows peaches, which unfortunately never seem to come in properly, on account of the weather. 

The Student Ministry Association will not be holding its usual “second-half” elections in January, as they have in previous years. When asked about the change, Pamela Winchell, current head of the group, said, “There is absolutely no need for them! Everybody knows who’s going to win _anyway_ , so why bother with some stupid _election_ with ballots to tell people what they already know!”

Other members of the Association nodded behind her in complete unison. A member of the crowd then shouted something about “fair and free elections” and “you can’t suspend them just because you’re afraid you’ll lose!” or _whatever_. Look, _Steve Carlsberg_ , it’s _blatantly obvious_ that the Association’s been having membership problems all year, and that Pamela Winchell’s been facing an increasing amount of pressure from High Inquisitor Umbridge. I mean, I think even our First Years can put those dots together, _Steve_. _So what_ if Ms. Winchell wants to suspend elections! It’s her right as head of the Association! Who are we to even _question_ her leadership abilities in the first place!? 

Ugh, I’m sorry, listeners. How about we go to a word from our sponsors for a bit?

Tired? Tired of what? Tired from a lack of sleep? Tired from a lack of purpose? Tired from a hard day of work? Tired from a hard day hardly working? Tired of losing? Tired of living? Tired of your friends? Maybe your wife? Maybe your husband? Maybe both, we’re not here to judge. Tired of your neighbors? Tired of how they steal your lawn gnomes and never return them? Tired of your family? Tired of yourself?

Qizilbash Quality Confectionary. You’ll never be tired again.

Okay, I _think_ we can move on now. And we’ve got another submission for the How We Met stories. This one… uh, huh. The name’s smudged a little. I… is that blood…?

Ah! Uh. Let’s just. Skip that and. Read it anyway. Okay, so they write:

"Hello, friend! I’m not sure if you remember me at all? I mean, it can be so hard to keep names straight sometimes, and you seem to be so popular around here, it wouldn’t be _too_ surprising if you couldn’t! So, it’s really nothing to get upset about, and I’m sure that if I reminded you through this lovely little show, you’ll figure it out right away! 

Let’s see, it must have been about… oh, this time last year? With that wonderful tournament! It was during that Yule Ball they threw, and gosh, those decorations sure looked amazing, didn’t they? I’m sure our friends the Daily Prophet helped put them together! But, anyway, we talked for awhile, just sitting at those tables, although it must have been hard to hear over the music. You seemed very friendly, although I’m not sure if you smiled that night at all, but that’s okay, no harm done! There’ll be plenty of time for smiling in the future.

But I’m looking forward to seeing you again! If this tiny story jogged your memory, I’ll be waiting near the clock tower tomorrow! I hope I’ll see you there!"

Oh. Ah ha. Right, um, thank you for the… uh, the submission. Yes. Thanks, Kevin. 

Uh, in lighter news, the vampires who live in the Shrieking Shack are throwing a holiday party during the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend. As usual, all Hogwarts students are invited to attend. They insist that all “troublemakers” and “people who pronounce v’s as w’s on purpose” will be dealt with harshly and severely. There is no official dress code, although it is advised that all appearance charms are cast in advance, as there are no mirrors on the property. 

Several listeners are reporting that those lights that float over the lake have returned. Some Slytherins have already begun casting noise dampening spells in preparation for their usual messages, which so far have all been in Unmodified Sumerian. An official viewing party is scheduled to leave for the lake momentarily. Nobody knows what causes these lights to appear, or why they change color so frequently, but they should dissipate come morning, and seem to have no adverse effects, aside from the humming sounds they emit.

Okay, listeners, we’ve got another submission for you! This one comes from Nazr Al-Mujaheed, captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. He writes:

"First flying lesson, first year. Nuff said."

Thank you, Nazr.

High Inquisitor Umbridge claims that a high frequency signal has been emanating from one of the sealed off passages located around our fair school. If anyone knows the source of the signal, or who might be broadcasting it, please report to High Inquisitor Umbridge _immediately_. The signal began broadcasting sometime last week, and has not stopped since. Nobody seems to know for certain what this signal means, not even our more scholarly students, but High Inquisitor Umbridge stresses that it is very dangerous and must be stopped as soon as possible for our own good. 

Oh! And-- oh, this is odd. Uh, it seems we have a submission here from Earl Harlan. Um, our First Year listeners probably don’t know who he is, but…. well, rest assured that we all fondly remember him from Care of Magical Creatures lessons, which he routinely took charge of, as well as his skill in herbology. Ah, but… well, he left school last year, so. I’m not actually sure what this is doing here-- uh, Dana? Did-- was this misfiled? Or left behind from last year, maybe? No? Really? 

Huh.

Well, uh. He writes:

"It was terrifying. The train ride in, I mean. Most wizards seem used to it. You probably were, and if you weren’t then, you are now. That’s what counts. Those compartments fill much too quickly. Probably plan it that way, I figure. That’s how most people meet around here. You know, share a train compartment with a stranger. End up friends. 

I guess it didn’t work out quite that way for us, huh?

It’s still terrifying out there. Maybe more so, nowadays. But I feel almost proud about it, sometimes. Like I have a chance to stop things from getting worse. You know, doing important work. Fighting good fights. 

Good luck with your’s, if you have one.

We could’ve had one, Cecil."

Um. I….I don’t…. I really don’t know what to say here. So, um. Let’s go to… let’s just go to [the weather](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bo3Tl9gXQMM)

Well, here we are again, listeners. Buried under the weight of half forgotten memories, most of them pleasant. Some of them not. 

But all those memories fit together to form the tapestries of our lives. To pull out one thread means detangling them all. One thread inevitably knots with another, jostles against it, until it forms meaningful patterns just from being woven together with threads much like it. 

I think often, about the memories I have, and the memories I don’t. 

So, I think maybe it’s only fair if I told one of these stories, too.

It was kinda simple, really. There was a Great Hall, and a hat placed upon a stool in the center. And there was a boy called up to sit under it. I can’t remember, sometimes, whether I’d been Sorted yet, or if I’d been sitting with the rest of the unchosen masses, but I suppose that ultimately, it doesn’t matter. Professor McGonagall called out Carlos -- and his hair was so beautiful that I don’t think I heard the rest. He looked nervous, sitting on that chair in front of the entire school -- I don’t think I’ve ever seen that scared of a look from someone not currently being chased by scorpions -- but then the Hat called out his House and he smiled -- and everything about him was _perfect_. 

And, um... I think you know the rest?

But… there isn’t just one thread to our lives. We are built together, stitched together, by all of our disparate threads. People we love and lose. People we never love and stay with. People who love us, but we can’t say the same. People we lose touch with. People we just never connect with the way we want. 

Our tapestries are all full of these missed connections. These moments where we meet, and it burns so brightly, fits together so cleanly, only for it all to fall apart in the next moment on the loom. So, as much as it matters where we came from, and where our paths crossed with others, we must also keep in mind where our paths split apart. 

That’s what gives our common threads so much worth. 

So, listeners, this holiday season, whether you’re spending it here or at home, alone or with others, make memories that will stick out in your tapestries like gold embroidery.

Stay tuned next for: the sound of bells jingling off the end of a wand.

Good night, Hogwarts. Good night.


End file.
